


Death's Emissary

by Revy679



Category: Gundam Wing, John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 05:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revy679/pseuds/Revy679
Summary: My homage to two of my favorites...Gundam Wing and John Wick. #CrossoverSo many parallels between John and Heero IMO.This is JW World with all the GW characters strategically placed. #PoeticWhile I followed the movie, I filled in blanks, added my own twists and changed the ending for another pretty poetic moment. Enjoy!





	Death's Emissary

**Death’s Emissary**

**This is my tribute to two of my favorites...a pairing of Gundam Wing and John Wick. There are many parallels between John Wick and Gundam Wing in my opinion, specifically Heero and Relena. I have been wanting to do this for a while, so whether you are a fan of John Wick or not, I think you can still enjoy this. But seriously, you should check out John Wick, Keanu Reeves is perfection in that role.**

**I used the movie and followed closely. This is the Gundam Gang in JW WORLD. However, I did fill in some blanks and added my own twists of course. :-) This is basically Gundam Wing in John Wick World...Heero AS John Wick. Please note, this story only focuses on the first John Wick movie with my own ending. ;-)**

**I own nothing, just a fan.**

**THIS IS DEFINITELY AU!**

**With AU comes a little OOC! Yet, this is almost poetic in the reverse world kind of way.**

**Rated M for mature content...violence, cursing, angst etc. All of the John Wick-ness. ;-)**

**While this story is rated M, there is no sex...just violence and cussing and some angst.**

  
  


***EVERYTHING IN BOLD ARE SCENE CHANGES***

* * *

  
  


_ When it all began:  _

_ The beach was their favorite place, probably because it happened to be the backdrop of their first meeting. The crashing waves and powdery sand was a place of comfort for them both.  _

_ She’d been jogging on the beach that early Saturday morning. If there ever were a meet-cute, one could suppose this was a prime example. She quite literally ran right into him, more accurately, she fell on top of him. She’d been absorbed in the music pumping through her headphones and enthusiastically jog/dancing, so much so that she didn’t notice the man laying in the sand. _

__

_ As her feet made contact with the grainy earth for the hundredth time, on this instance, they hit a solid form, causing her to completely lose her balance and fall.  _

_ He’d been stargazing the previous night and had fallen prey to the lullaby of the waves. The beach always calmed him after a ‘chaotic’ evening. Alas, even in his slumber, his past still haunted him, it was nothing new...par for the course. So when he awoke to a jarring weight upon him in the form of an angel, he could have believed he had died and gone to Heaven.  _

_ No, he couldn’t be dead...as he was certain that upward was not the direction he would be headed once death claimed him. Besides, his dreams lacked the creativity and beauty to concoct the ethereal creature gazing down at him now. And was that...concern in her eyes? He could not recall the last time anyone looked at him with compassion, let alone concern. _

_ “Forgive me! I didn’t see you there.” The light tint of pink that graced her cheeks did not escape his attention as she blushed through her apology. The sun shone behind her as if illuminating Venus herself. Never had he witnessed such a Goddess.  _

_ His own existence was filled with mayhem cloaked in nefarious deeds. His world was the antithesis of anything resembling pretty. _

_ “Are you alright?” The golden-haired siren spoke and it pulled him from the depths of his murky thoughts.  _

_ “I should be asking you that question?”  _

_ The dark-haired man was dressed in an all black suit, admittedly an odd choice for the beach, but somehow, it fit him, despite the location. Truthfully, she was far more interested in the look he gave her...it was devastating. He spoke in a deep baritone voice, like whiskey and silk. The intensity of his eyes making her feel exposed, in the most sensual of ways, as if he could see directly into her soul. Yet, there was something more within the depths of his Prussian blue eyes...severe and forlorn.  _

_ “Oh, I’m perfectly fine.” She giggled as she bestowed upon him a dazzling smile.  _

_ His heart skipped a beat just by the mere look she gave him. He had only just met her, but it didn’t escape his attention that she was already making it past his carefully erected barriers with ease. That fact alone would normally set off an alarm in his mind, but with her...he found himself wanting to let her in, and that was as startling as it was intriguing.  _

_ She was as kind as she was beautiful. She was a true humanitarian and he...a killer. It was something he never wanted to admit to such a loving heart as his gentle enchantress, yet he found that he could not lie to her...more accurately, he didn’t want to lie to her. It was a new experience for his hardened heart, and he was surprised to realize that he was actually comfortable with the changes she was silently making within him. _

_ Their romance was a whirlwind, fast yet complete. Apparently that was what happened once you’ve found the one who completes you. They discovered they had more in common than expected...with the exception of one matter...his line of work.  _

_ As the days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and the months completed a year, he asked for her hand. For the first time in his life, he was truly worried about someone’s reply. However, much to his relief and somewhat shock, she said yes.  _

_ Not far along into their romance, he had found the strength to explain his particular skill-set that had led to his “career”. It was easily the most nerve-racking experience of his life. He could take out a mark with frightening accuracy devoid of emotion or acknowledgement of the fact that he had just ended a life; but to tell her of his deeds was enough to make his heart give out.  _

_ She reacted with more grace and understanding than he deserved. Of course she wasn’t comfortable with such a line of “work” but, she had an extensive understanding of the world in which she lived. She held a firm grasp on the circumstances which could lead to less than desirable avenues. Regardless of her compassion, he knew she would never attain peace as long as he continued on his path to purgatory.  _

_ Before he could ask her to marry him, he had to get out of “the life”. While that was not really possible for most people...he was quite honestly not most people. Although, in order to get out, he was tasked with a job that was deemed...impossible...for anyone else, that is. Much to the surprise of his boss, he had accomplished the job and earned his exit. Although he had been honest with her on his “career”, he had not seen the need to inform her of the details of the job that had allowed him his freedom. The acts he committed were for her, for them, and for their new life together. It’s was all that mattered.  _

_ He had finally attained a real life and life is what they lived, a normal life of peace and prosperity. He was an intelligent man, so finding a lucrative position was not difficult. She herself was an heiress, left everything by her parents who had passed away in a plane crash when she was just a child. Despite her tragedy, she was a shining beacon of love and compassion. Her passion of life and all who occupied the world was as big as the ocean. She was a English professor and thoroughly enjoyed sparking the creative fevor of her students.  _

_ His peace was only discovered and acquired in meeting her and making her his. She made him a better person, a better man...someone who deserved her. Every moment they spent together was a gift he wasn’t entirely sure was justified; but everyday he strove to do all he could to earn the love she so willingly bestowed upon him.  _

_ Life had never been better for the man who thought life was just moving emotionlessly from one job to the next. She taught him that there was so much more to living.  _

_ In between the tranquility of their peaceful everyday lives, they traveled, they saw the world, they found their rhythm. When they made love, they became one, irrevocably knowing one another’s souls. He had become one-half of those insufferable couples that he previously couldn’t stand to be around. Of course, at that time, it was due to his own unhappiness; but now, he no longer cared, because happiness had finally found him and he had no plans of letting go.  _

_ However, fate...the cruel mistress that she is...had other plans...  _

_ It began with fatigue and rapidly escalated to more acute symptoms. The human mind is a fascinating if not disconcerting thing. The capacity at which a person is capable of believing one’s own denial, is in truth...terrifying. In the quest to stay positive, we lie to ourselves despite our instincts screaming at us that we are dead wrong. Yet, we long to believe our lies in hopes of willing them into fruition.  _

_ The diagnosis from the doctor...terminal. The words...like a shot to his heart. His entire world decimated by one utterance.  _

_ Money was no object and the best doctors were consulted, but the outcome was always the same. Money is a curse when you don’t have it and a blessing when you do, but when you can’t use it to save the only person that matters to you, it becomes a mute point.  _

_ He witnessed her deteriorate before his eyes, felt her tremble with every labored breath as he held her in his arms while attempting to hold himself together and hide his pain. Of course, it was futile...she could see through him, he could never hide from her. The truth of their pain brought them closer in their agony...hers of leaving him and this world, while his was being forced to live in a world without her...his very heart.  _

  
  
  


**The day was overcast, dreary, and bitingly cold, but he didn’t feel it.** The rain fell in steady streams as if the sky were crying. Whether romanticized or meteorological, the weather fit his current mood...a mood, for as far as he could tell, would be his for the foreseeable future.

Dressed in black, a color he had not donned in quite a while. However, this time the reason for his attire, was not his doing. Societal rules dictated today’s choice of color scheme. 

It had not been sudden, this was a day he knew was coming, hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles. It was the ultimate cruelty of life that she would be the one taken. A silent killer, a horrific disease, breaking her from the inside, leaving her to suffer the longevity of plague, while he could do nothing but watch. 

One question kept running through his mind...did the fates take her as  _ his _ punishment for  _ his _ crimes? It should have been him, never her...he was the killer...he was the one that hell awaited once he crossed the veil. He had always believed that his entire life had been hell, but he was so very wrong...watching her die had been the true hell. Whatever greeted him in death...he no longer feared. He had carried out evil and witnessed it, but watching it steal such a glorious light from this world...from his world...that was true evil. 

He’d been to hell and back several times in his life, but he willfully walked through the fires for her. While he had changed for the better, it had come at a great cost. He had admittedly committed unspeakable acts all in an attempt of becoming a better person, a better man...for her. Now she was gone, his reason was no more...the irony was not lost on him.

She had not just found a way to his heart, she had set his walls aflame with the purity of her touch, making him believe that he could start anew. The hope in her eyes renewed his belief that he could become at least a fraction of the man she deserved. 

He glared at himself in the full length mirror, the very mirror his loving wife had added to their bedroom. It occurred to him in that moment that his pitchblack suit felt less like a suit of mourning and more like his old ‘uniform’. Under different circumstances, or perhaps in a different lifetime he might have chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Shaking his head in realization...his ‘uniform’ had always been one of mourning. 

Normally, he could maintain control over his mind, but today his heart had hijacked his discipline, as memories threatened to drown him with every new recollection. 

Despite the inclement weather, the day moved without interruption. He sat in the pew at the church alone. Neither he nor Relena had any family, only friends attended...her friends. She had many acquaintances and friends, people were naturally drawn to her. However, in regards to him, they were hesitant. More than likely their instincts or better judgement warning them in the name of personal preservation. It was just as well, he had always been better on his own, he preferred it that way...until her. She had turned his entire world inside out, rapidly becoming all he desired, all he ever needed, and everything he never knew was missing in his life. Life...that’s exactly what she had given him, a real and meaningful life. She was...his reason.

Once she had been stolen from him, a deep and unyielding anesthesia seeped into his soul...like the caress of an old lover It had always been his defense mechanism...before her...it had made his life manageable. It was only after meeting his angel that he had discovered a new way to live. However, since her passing, he had found that some of his old habits were finding their way back to him. Detachment had retaken up its once abandoned post, and it appeared to be the best way, in-fact the only way for him to make through his day. 

However, the nights were an entirely different beast. The perfume lingering throughout their home was a sweet if not sadistic catalyst to his pain. Her clothes still in their closet, just the way she last left them. Her pillow on the bed they shared was soaked in her sweet scent, enveloping him with the promise of suffocation by way of anguish. Her scent alone threatened to lull his perfect and desperately hopeful senses into believing that she was still there. The nights they shared in their bed, snuggled within the home he had built just for her, for them...were in a word...perfection. He could feel her spirit residing within the aura of their home with every breath he took. 

Breathing, he came to realize, was a function he had taken for granted. That seemingly simple task was excruciatingly painful and the furthest thing from easy. 

In his own way, he said goodbye to her, his wife, his love, his salvation...watching as she was lowered into the cold, damp and desolate ground. All the while, he was fighting the urge to join her. Outwardly...he shed no tears. 

He could feel the mourners disperse as he stayed by her side. His feet didn’t want to move, or perhaps they were unable to move. His heart was hemorrhaging as his stayed planted in the saturated ground.

He wasn’t entirely certain of the time that had passed, and he honestly didn’t give a damn if he stood there for all eternity. But as the wind picked up, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. His Eagle eye noticed a lone umbrella standing off to the side of the walkway...but the person underneath it is what propelled him toward the cloistered individual. 

He did not speak as he approached, but the man did…

”It’s been a while. My condolences. How are you holding up?”

In his grief, Heero answered honestly. “I keep asking, why her?” 

“There’s no rhyme or reason to this life. It’s days like today, scattered among the rest.” 

“Are you sure?” Heero asked, feeling slightly affronted by the words as they sliced at his already mutilated heart.

The man now looked condescendingly sympathetic. “Don’t blame yourself.” 

“What are you really doing here, Trowa?” 

Trowa appeared halfway between exasperated and annoyed as he stared at Heero with a laser like focus. “Just checking up...on an old friend.” 

The two men eyed each other with severity and caution. Trowa then held out his hand. “Goodbye Heero.” 

Heero accepted Trowa’s handshake in reply, watching as he walked away. 

Before Heero found his way to his car, he turned back one more time, looking in the direction where his wife lay...a comforting torment. 

Once arriving home, he found himself on autopilot, withstanding the uncomfortable condolences, handshakes and even the rare and awkward hug here and there. 

It was only after the guests had departed that he found the time to truly acknowledge his pain. 

As he stood on the precipiss, staring into the abyss of his sorrow, the doorbell rang out, its cheery tone being devoured by the somber void of his surroundings. 

Upon opening the door, a delivery person stood at the ready with a clipboard in hand, asking his name. He half-heartedly signed, as he couldn’t take his eyes off the delivery at his feet. 

He gingerly picked up his parcel as he walked inside and placed it on the coffee table. Instantly he spied a pair of brown eyes staring at him through the carrier’s door. His heart jolted as he then caught sight of a sealed envelope resting on top. His hand was trembling as he reached for it in both urgency and trepidation. 

He broke the seal and retrieved the card, the picture on the front was that of a little girl and her dog. His heart stopped as he opened the card and recognized his wife’s meticulous handwriting. His breath ceased, as he held the card to his heart and shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to contain the emotions currently threatening to drown him. Forcing a shuddering breath through his body, he slowly opened his eyes to view her words. 

  
  


**_Heero,_ **

**_I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, but you still need something, someone to love._ **

**_Start with her, because the card doesn’t count._ **

**_I love you Heero._ **

**_This illness has loomed over us for a long time, and now that I have found my peace, find yours._ **

**_Until that day._ **

**_Your Best Friend, your love, your wife,_ **

**_Relena_ **

  
  


It was at that moment, the tears he had managed to hold back found him and the anguish alone could have ended him where he sat.

As if they had a mind of their own, his shaking hands opened the cage to a tiny golden puppy...a Golden Retriever. The hair color reminded him of the women that had chosen her...the woman that had chosen him...chosen them both. As his hand landed on her neck, he then noticed a collar and tag...it simply read Mary. Fresh tears fell as he clung to the puppy in his arms...the very last gift from the love of his life.

  
  
  
  


**Finding the will to go through the motions of everyday living wasn’t as difficult as breathing.** Every inhale was like a slug to the chest, but the golden ball of fur was certainly a distraction. She was a relentless ball of energy, constantly reminding him to feed himself when he had to feed her. She was adorable and her energy reminded him of his wife, as if she had been reincarnated just to make sure he kept moving forward. 

He came to enjoy the company of the energetic puppy. She scampered all around the house, infusing life into the nothingness that had become his abode. Just like his wife, she was making her way into his heart. 

He had always loved dogs, even after a regrettable incident as a child when he accidentally killed a puppy that had found its way into his crosshairs during a ‘job’. He carried that puppy all the way home and gave her a proper burial. It was a traumatic and profound lesson for a young man, as it was the first time he realized that he did in-fact have the capacity to feel for another living being. While it did not deter him from the path of blood he had chosen for his life, it did leave a lasting impression. Now, another lesson...his wonderful wife was right...she had always been right. He could have laughed had it not been so painful.

  
  
  


**Mary loved car rides.** it was something they had in common. He loved to drive, it was one moment of peace he managed to wrangle from the bloody clutches of his sorrow. The excited goldie sat by his side and he watched as she hung her head out of the window and bit at the air. She had become his companion, his friend, and the other warm spot on the other side of the empty bed. Mary had become his encouragement and the support system he didn’t realize he needed. 

On one of those many ordinary car rides on a typical day, he stopped for the normal everyday task of procuring fuel. His furry companion worked her little legs in order to stand and stretch her neck as far as she could out of the window to sniff the air and keep an eye on her master. As the pump did it’s job, he couldn’t resist petting the young goldie as she happily wagged her tail at her master’s attention. 

Pulling his attention away from the furball, a BMW erratically pulled into the station and barely missed hitting a gas pump. The loud rap music emitting from the car was obnoxious, but not as much as the occupants. Both screaming at each other in what might be considered “friendly banter”. One of the men walked over to him, or more specifically to his car, eyeing it with clear appreciation. 

“Nice ride.” The man spoke through the smoke he exhaled from his cigarette as Heero replaced the fuel nozzle back in it’s home. 

“Mustang. Boss 429.” The stranger spoke with an air of confidence as he crassly knocked on the vintage metal. 

“Is she a ‘70?” 

“‘69.” Heero answered if for no other reason than to leave the annoying man’s presence. 

“Ah...The man voiced, almost confused as he took another drag of his cigarette… “Beautiful car.”

“Thanks,” Heero remarked quietly as he walked to his driver’s side door in a hurry to enter the cockpit. 

Once again, the crude man knocked his knuckles callously against the classic beast. 

“How much?” The man questioned through the side of his lips that wasn’t holding onto his cigarette. 

Heero stopped as he finally looked at the brazen man. “Excuse me?” 

The man took the death stick from his mouth as he slowly repeated himself as if he were irritated that he had to do so. “How much for the car?” 

Now annoyance had come over Heero as he entered his beloved car. “She’s not for sale.” 

As he seated himself, the brash man came to his passenger side window and petted Mary. 

“Aw, I love dogs.” 

Heero found himself wanting to break the man’s hand for touching Mary, but then the man spoke again… “Everything’s got a price, bitch.” Although, it was not the words that caught Heero’s attention, instead it was the language the man used. He had spoke in Russian. 

Heero looked at the man with, a no doubt peculiar expression and replied in flawless Russian… “Not this bitch.” The man invading his window had backed up, his eyes widened in shock. 

“What the fuu..” The man’s question was cut short as his friend came over to them. “Who does this guy think he is?” Heero could hear the man voice in disbelief. The larger man bent down to Heero’s passenger side window and spoke English in a thick Russian accent as if apologizing. 

“You, have good day sir.”

Heero drove off without another thought of the ridiculous pair. 

  
  
  


**Later that night,** he had finally found some semblance of rest. He didn’t necessarily sleep anymore. It was more likened to different levels of less consciousness. Suddenly, Mary started barking as she jumped off the bed and ran out of the bedroom door. That type of behavior was less than usual for her, even as a puppy she was normally calm at night, but he assumed she had to go to the bathroom. As he wrestled himself free of the bedsheets, the fatigue afflicting him had him mindlessly following the fluffy ball of energy down the stairs. Rubbing his eyes as his feet hit the cold wood of the first floor, then pain exploded at the back of his head and he fell to the ground. Another blow hit him, this time at his side, and then another blow to his stomach and face, the pain radiated throughout every nerve in his body. Mary whimpered and he heard a familiar voice...or more specifically...a familiar language. 

“Where are the car keys?” 

As the miscreants wrecked his home, Mary cried in fear of the intruders and her master’s current injured state. 

“Shut that fucking dog up!” 

Through his blurry vision he watched as the culprit chased his little Mary, grabbing her and knocking her out as she cried in terror before being silenced. 

He tried to move, tried to get to her, but he was kicked hard to keep from advancing. His injuries hurt, but he had experienced worse in the past, his current misery was not for himself, but for Mary. It was all too familiar, once again he could not protect what he loved. He barely heard the men speaking, as they searched for their prize. 

“Find the keys.” 

“Ah, hah.” 

“Here. I found them.” 

As he laid on the floor in a daze, he felt his head being lifted. The lowlife that held him in his grasp lowered his bandana and Heero immediately recognized the asshole from earlier who had tried to buy his car. 

Once more the Russian flowed as he imparted his farewell… “Sleep tight, bitch.” 

That was the last thing Heero heard. 

  
  
  


**As his consciousness returned,** he had found the pain did as well. He noticed that Mary was laying next to him. Relief flooded him, and as he raised his arm to pet her, his relief instantly turned to misery and remorse. He could tell by her stiff little body...she was gone. His physical pain was forgotten as emotional anguish took its place. As he lifted his battered and bruised body to a sitting position on the floor, he noticed a trail of blood. Suddenly his heart hurt more than his body, he knew, his little Mary had used her last vestiges of strength to crawl all the way across the room...to him. She was wounded, bleeding and in pain, yet she had wanted to take her last breath by his side, and he wasn’t even conscious for it. For the first time since his wife’s funeral...the day she had given him Mary...his tears fell as he cradled her tiny lifeless body. 

When the sun broke on that new and horrible day, he laid his precious goldie to rest in the backyard. The only words going through his mind...another death...another failure. 

As he attempted to wash Mary’s blood from the floor, he soon realized it would never completely come out. Her essence would forever remain apart of that house...much in the same way his wife’s aura was apart of their home. He supposed it was fitting, two of his most beloved treasures gone and he was unable to prevent either one from being stolen from him. As he futility scrubbed at the red stain on the floor, watching as it seemed to seep into the grain of the wood, as if it had always been there, his anger began to grow. 

He gave up “the life” for his bride, and he had been happy to do it. But now she was gone...apparently no matter how hard you tried, one’s past would always find them and he was obviously no exception. If they wanted him back so badly, then he would rain hellfire down upon them. 

He would make a special appearance to seek his revenge on the ingrate that had been stupid and unfortunate enough to cross his path. Some things were just worth coming out of retirement for. 

Upon entering his garage, he wasn’t surprised to see that his beloved car was gone. However, what did shock him was his wife’s SUV had been vandalized. The tires deflated and a baseball bat was lodged in the windshield. As if enough hadn’t been done to piss him off already? His blood was now boiling.

He did not change from his blood-soaked night clothes, he just threw on his jacket and took a bus to his destination. There was one place that his car would more than likely be, and even if it wasn’t there, he knew the man that could find it. 

  
  


**_In another part of the city:_ **

A braided man stood in his castle...a body shop, that occasionally moonlit as a chop shop. He had just set his coffee mug down when he heard the arrival of a car barrelling into his shop and come screeching to a halt. He took a deep breath, he already knew who it was by the loud rap music pouring from the car, audibly defiling his shop. He turned around to face the immature twat, but as soon as he laid eyes on the car...his heart stopped. 

“Where the hell did you get that car?!” Duo exploded at the cocky son of a bitch now exiting the cockpit with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Who gives a shit?!” The impudent brat yelled back. 

“Alright, get out of here! Just get the hell out of my shop, right now!” 

The man-child looked at Duo in disbelief. “Did you just lose your shit, Duo?! We own you!” 

At those words Duo stopped in his tracks, attempting to keep his anger in check, walking as he spoke. “What did you say? What did you just say to me?” 

Speaking slowly as if talking to a child, the manchild repeated himself slowly enunciating each word… "We-own-you.” 

Duo moved menacingly into the child’s personal space. “You don’t own me punk. I work with your father, alright.” As Duo backed up, he asked a question that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to… "The owner of the car, did you kill him or what?” 

“No, but we sure as hell fucked up his dog.” He laughed. 

“You fucked up his dog? That’s what you did? You fucked up his dog? Wooo! That’s crazy shit, man.” Duo pretended to join in the laughter of the idiot standing before him and then like a lightning strike, he punched the little shit in the face. Taking satisfaction as he watched the moron fall to the ground. 

Then, one of his peons pulled a gun, aiming it directly at Duo’s head. 

“Oh, look at you! This is great. You’re gonna come into my shop and pull a gun on me? Oh, that’s great man.” Duo laughed in disgust as he grabbed the barrel of the gun and pressed it to his forehead. “You either kill me right now, or you get the  _ fuck _ out of my shop.” 

The fear in the eyes of the thug holding him at gunpoint was clear. Even if he had the balls to pull the trigger, which he clearly didn’t, Duo sure as hell wasn’t afraid of death. 

Another of the entourage grabbed the gun, directing it away from Duo’s head as he spoke...“The boss is not going to like this.” 

Duo scoffed… "How do you know what he does or doesn’t like? I’ll tell you something though, the boss is gonna understand.” 

Duo turned his back on the ragtag team and started walking away just as the ringleader started yelling. “You got a fucking pair on you, man! Guess we’ll be taking our business someplace else.” 

Duo didn’t care what that cocksucker had to say. He was far too engrossed in what would happen now? Worry consumed his as he could guess the bloody chain of events that would soon unfold due to the ignorant actions of the arrogant, detestable and self-titled ‘prince’ behind him.

  
  


**Soon afterward:**

Once the simple minded trio had left, Duo’s freshly prepared coffee no longer provided what he needed. He now required something much stronger for what came next. He knew that he wouldn’t have to wait long and he was right. As he finished his whiskey and revelled in the euphoric burn as it caressed his throat, he noticed as the man of the hour walked up to him and sat down. 

“Is it here?” 

Duo immediately poured Heero a glass of whiskey. Heero was never much one for chit chat, and in this instance, Duo decided to follow his lead. 

“It was,” Duo answered and took a swing of his drink. He let the brown elixir slide down his throat as he found the willpower to say the next words. 

“Vladik took it,” he spoke quickly as he poured himself another drink. 

Duo knew he'd only confirm Heero’s suspicion as he eyes infintestibly narrowed and Duo swore the temperature in his shop had just dropped. 

Heero’s instincts had been right. He hoped against hope that he wasn’t right, but hearing Duo say the name...he was absolutely certain. His past had found him, despite his best efforts.

“What are you going to do?” Duo watched as Heero downed his drink like it was a shot. 

“I need a ride.” 

It was the only answer Duo received or would receive. The words were not a question or even a favor, but it was just a response. His words were the understanding of a foundation built between him and Duo so many years ago. Duo’s reply was provided in the form the  1970 Chevelle SS that Heero drove out in. 

  
  


**In the stillness of Duo’s shop,** his phone rang out, the normally gleeful bell caused a shiver to run down his spine. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat in hopes of shoving down the nervousness now bubbling up within him. 

“Duo speaking.”

The silence on the other end was deafening as he waited. 

“I heard you struck my son.” 

“Yes, sir, I did.” 

“And may I ask why?” 

“Ya, well, cuz he stole Heero Yuy’s car, sir...and uh, killed his dog.” Duo practically stuttered out as he paced back and forth on the unforgiving concrete floor. 

Duo once again heard silence, but this time the energy was different. 

“Oh.” 

That was the only other word spoken and then...a dead line was all Duo heard. 

Duo hung up his phone as he let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and took a swig of his whiskey. He knew that while he had personally just dodged a literal bullet, he also knew that this was not over...it had only just begun. 

  
  


**A man walked slowly down a dark staircase,** his right hand woman met him upon his arrival at the bottom. 

“Sir, they have agreed to your terms.” She spoke with an air of accomplishment. The platinum blonde woman’s self-satisfied smirk turned to a slight frown at her boss’ lack of enthusiasm. She tried again… “Congratulations.” 

She then noticed the grave look on her boss’ face. 

“Sir?” 

“Have you seen my son?” He practically whispered.

“Father.” 

The man turned to face the boy in question. Without a word, he walked up to him and punched his son in the stomach. Vladik hunched over in pain as he fell to the ground for the second time today. 

“Sir, should I go?” Dorothy questioned as her feet started to move her away from the scene. Dorothy heard her boss speak in his native tongue and she pleaded… “Boss, English, please.” 

“STAY, GODDAMN IT!” She understood that sentence as he yelled at her in English.. 

“Wh...what did I do?” The sputtering mess on the floor voiced. 

The Russian spilled from his lips… “You fucked up!”

“Father, we did what you asked. No one saw shit.” 

He grabbed his son by the hair, yanking him upward so that they were eye level. 

“I’m not talking about the job.” 

“What then?” His son spoke through his pain. “So, I stole a fucking car-” The boy’s words were cut short when his father punched him in the face. 

“Fuck!” Dorothy yelled as she started to once again back away. 

“You stay, Dorothy!” Her boss clearly wanted her to witness this. 

He moved behind the bar as he poured himself a drink. 

“It’s not what you did that angers me. It’s who you did it to.” 

His son looked at him in confusion. “Who? That fucking nobody?” 

His father froze, slowly turning his head to the impudent waif before him.

“That fucking nobody...is Heero Yuy.” He threw back his entire drink, in the futile hope that the stinging liquid might wash away the bad taste in his mouth. Slowly moving out from behind the bar, he advanced toward his son in hopes to educate his foolish offspring. 

“He once was an...associate of ours. We called him Baba Yaga.” 

“Boogeyman?” His son questioned as he finally managed to get up from the floor.

“Well...Heero wasn’t exactly the boogeyman. He was the one you send to kill the fucking boogeyman!” The severity in his voice only added to the gravitas of the situation. 

“Oh.” The only word spoken from his wayward son as he visibly swallowed in fear. 

He advanced toward Vladik, coming inches from his face. 

“Heero is a man of focus, commitment and sheer will. Something you know very little about.” He took a breath as he continued. “I once saw him kill three men in a bar...with a pencil...a fucking pencil.” 

He walked away, back toward a stressed out looking Dorothy and mimicked slamming a pencil into her ear, watching as she jumped and his son looked on wide-eyed and alarmed. 

As he went back behind the bar, he resumed his tale. “One day, he asked to leave...over a woman, of course. So, I made a deal with him. I gave him an impossible task. A job no one could have pulled off.” He took another deep drink as he seemed to need it to fortify the words he was about to speak. “The bodies he buried that day...laid the foundation of what we are now.” 

He walked back toward his stupid son once more. “And then,  _ my _ son, a few days after his wife dies, you steal his car...and kill his fucking dog.” 

He turned away from Vladik, at that point, his anger was too great to lay eyes on him any longer. Much to his dismay, his clueless son clearly did not get the message. 

“Father, I can make this right.” 

He had to hold back a scoff and a scream. “Oh? How do you plan to do that?” 

“By finishing what I started.”

Hysterics itched to escape at his son’s asinine words. He turned to Dorothy in exasperation. “Did he hear a fucking word I said?” 

“Dad, I can do this! Please?” Speaking in their native tongue, he pleaded to his father’s sense of loyalty and family. 

Hugging his son in both love and regret, he grabbed him by the hair as he whispered in his ear. 

“Heero will come for you...and you will do nothing, because you can do nothing. Now get the fuck out of my sight.” Pushing his child away, he watched as he fled from his presence. 

  
  


**In a dark basement:**

The sound of a sledge hammer repeatedly meeting concrete was the symphony to one man’s pain, and the prelude to his revenge.

With every hit, his anger grew like a disease coursing through him. However, instead of weakening his body, it was strengthening him, fortifying his cause and setting his anger on fire like a phoenix rising from the rubble that was now his basement floor. 

He cleared away the broken pieces that littered the decimated ground, grabbing hold of the sizable wooden chest that had sat undisturbed since he placed it there when he made his bloody exit from “the life”. 

Opening the crate to his past was like lifting the lid to Pandora’s box…a gateway to a dark and treacherous world...a life that once upon a time was all he knew and everything nefarious of which he excelled. As he stared at the contents, he knew this was the only way...a direct line to his vengeance.

Piercing the silence was the bells of an old black telephone, sitting in the corner, not having chimed out in years. Walking slowly to the ancient device, he lifted the receiver and breathed not a word. 

“Hello, Heero.” Silence reigned. 

“I heard about your wife. I’m sorry. My condolences.” The silence continued. 

“It uh, seems to be fate, or perhaps it’s just bad fucking luck, that caused our paths to cross once again.” The silence stretched. 

“Heero.” Silenced remained. 

“Let us not resort to our baser instincts and handle this like civilized men to move on…” Heero hung up...without a one utterance from his lips. 

  
  
  


**The man who was hung up on,** used his desk as support as he tried to collect himself. His anger wrestled with his fear and he wasn’t certain which one was winning at the moment. 

“What did he say?” Dorothy had been watching as her formidable boss shriveled from strong and confident to unrecognizable in mere seconds. 

“Enough.” He spoke barely above a whisper. 

As he collected himself, he addressed his platinum blonde Lieutenant and said the only thing he could… “Task a crew.” 

She spoke in scoffing disbelief…”How many?” 

“How many do you have?” The severe glare and slight shake in his voice, finally caused her to realize the severity of their situation. In a blink of an eye, the warm lifeforce coursing through her veins turned as frigid as the arctic.

He could see in that instance that she finally understood. That fleeting moment afforded him a modicum of comfort as well as a moment to consider the unique gem he had found in his Lieutenant. He had never witnessed another women who possessed such cunning coupled with astoundingly sinister abilities. She was ruthless and formidable...but still no match against Heero.

  
  
  


**The donning of a suit of “mourning”...The night is always darkest before the dawn.**

He stared at his visage in the mirror...in his “uniform”...caught between comfort and anger...his emotions battling for which one took precedence. 

Grasping his custom glock, feeling the familiar weight in his hand, it was like coming home...an old friend...if that friend were a harbinger of death. 

Turning off the last and only light that was on in his home, he walked forward and out of his bedroom, ready to meet his fate.

The cover of night provided no protection as his perfect vision allowed him to see all. Witnessing every movement of each so-called assassin, that had been sent to kill him.

The first one came around the corner and met the barrel of his gun as the bullet exited the chamber and made a tunnel through his skull. The next two went down much in the same way. Bullets leaving his gun with purpose, meeting their targets with deadly accuracy. The gunshot from down the stairs caught his attention and he replied by sending a bullet to the face of the gunman. Another intruder immediately arrived behind the fallen man. Heero jumped from the stairs, landing on the first floor as he shot two bullets into the man, ending him where he stood. Another man and another quick kill shot. Then rounding the corner to reload. 

As he went to advance through his home, another jumped out and he used his superior hand to hand combat skills to subdue the culprit, breaking his balance, and throwing him on the floor. Before he could end the one in his grip, another man emerged from the darkness and with his free hand, Heero shot him in the head and then proceeded to shoot the man he had thrown onto the ground. 

He sensed the approach of more coming, and waited under the blanket of night like death itself. He shot one directly and used his corpse to block his movement across the room as he killed the next one in a single shot. Another bullet was expelled from his gun at yet another man trying to finish the job the others could not. The two men ended up on either side of a wall, waiting for the other to make a move. Heero ducked just as the man shot through the wall and Heero returned fire back through the wall as well. The man revealed himself and Heero entered into a short but effective hand to hand combative that ended in his favor as he threw the man through his large and once beautiful picture window. Instantly reloading, he shot the man just for good measure. 

Continuing his trek through the house, another misguided soul jumped out and actually managed to disarm him. The victory was short lived as Heero threw him onto his kitchen island, breaking a bottle into his face. As he was about to end it, an addition to their party arrived. The newcomer went for the discarded gun on the floor. Heero lunged for the weapon as he kicked it out of reach, engaging in intensive combat and throwing him to floor.The man on his island began to stir and Heero aimed his fist so precisely that he broke the man’s neck on the edge of the counter in one blow. The man on the floor had moved to the counter, grabbing a knife and charged for him. Heero evaded every attempted slice and cut as the men fought their way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Once Heero got the man on the ground, their struggle to control the knife continued, until Heero turned the knife towards the man’s chest. The man gave a good fight for about 5 seconds, before the knife obeyed Heero’s will and plunged into the chest cavity. 

No sooner had the struggle ended did his doorbell ring. As he focused on the front door, he could see through the frosted glass the shadow of the police officer from the continual flashing lights of the police car. 

Walking to the door, he placed his gun behind his back, just in case...and opened the door. 

“Evening, Heero.” 

“Evening, Hildi.” 

The police woman had been patrolling his neighborhood for years and more importantly, she was aware of his particular skill set. For the sake of her personal preservation she had been wise enough to keep his secret. 

Heero sighed as he spoke. “Noise complaint?” 

Hildi nodded her head slowly in confirmation. “Noise complaint.” 

Just then her nodding head took a dive to the side as she noticed the body that lay in his hallway. Removing her cap and holding it with both hands, “You, uh, working again?”

“No. just sorting some stuff out,” Heero replied. 

“Oh, well...I’ll leave you be then.” Hildi started to turn to walk away. “Goodnight, Heero.” 

“Goodnight, Hildi.” 

  
  
  


**“I’d like to make a dinner reservation for 12”…**

he never thought those words would pass his lips again...not in this context anyway. He could say it was foolish to think that, but he had desperately wanted to believe it. 

As he hung up his ancient, yet normal and harmless looking basement telephone, he counted out the gold coins...the only payment accepted in “the life” to accommodate the “cost” of his “reservation”. He sighed... _ even after all these years, it all came back with such ease. _

The announcement by way of doorbell was not required..he knew when they had arrived. 

He opened the door to a blond man with a baby face. Even though he was older now, his young face proved the deception of his age. 

“Good to see you, Heero.” The man spoke with respect and genuine appreciation at seeing him once again. 

“Quatre.” Heero nodded, allowing him and his men in to “clean”.

As Quatre’s team entered, Quatre and Heero just stared at one another. 

“You look good.” Quatre spoke with sincerity and a hint of humor. 

“And here I feared you’d left all this behind.” Quatre smirked as he slowly moved his hat back atop his head, almost elegantly, as he seemed to glide from the foray and further into the house. 

Heero assumed that anyone in this life always had something to atone for, but it had truly baffled him how a seemingly gentle soul like Quatre worked such an unpleasant job. The query had bubbled to the surface often enough, that one day, he finally asked the man, and his answer was one of simplicity.

_ “You see, Heero, I would rather clean up the messes of others than create the messes myself. And honestly, Isn’t it better to have a person in this occupation who possesses at least some type of compassion for these poor souls?”  _

His words had surprised Heero, as he had never thought of the situation in that context before. Most cleaners were like robots, treating their ‘work’ like any other job, instead of what it was... disposing of lost souls. Looking back on his conversation with Quatre, he could now believe that perhaps that blip of a conversation planted a seed of understanding in himself that had not previously been there. He pondered this thought as he watched the crew work quickly and efficiently...just like old times.

As the last body was hauled out, Quatre spoke once more. “Will I be hearing from you anytime soon?” 

Heero placed the coins in his hand…”Goodbye, Quatre.” 

Quatre nodded his head in understanding as he tipped his hat. “Heero.”

Heero watched as the “cleaners” drove away. 

  
  
  
  


**“Of course he did.”:**

Heero’s body count that night came as no surprise when Dorothy announced the news. 

“Put a contract on Heero Yuy.” 

Dorothy nodded in agreement. “How much?” 

“Two million.” 

“Lure the wolf with the hen.” 

Dorothy once again showed her frustration. “English, please.” 

Her boss ignored her plea, looking at her with tired eyes…”Put Vladik in the red circle and wait.” 

Dorothy was now confused. “Wait, for what?” 

“For Heero Yuy, of course.” He spoke in exasperation at having to answer such a clearly obvious question. 

  
  
  
  


**In another home not far away…**

A man was executing his morning ritual of juicing, when his door buzzer alerted him to a guest.

As he opened the door, he was both surprised and yet not surprised to see the man standing on his doorstep. Allowing him entry, they walked to his living room. 

The guest spoke. “I have a job for you.” 

“And I have a phone,” the owner of the home said sarcastically. 

The guest almost laughed. “I wanted to offer this to you, face to face, seeing as how you might find it...personal.” The air in the room suddenly became heavy as the guest continued. “Would you kill Heero Yuy for two million dollars? After-all, you were...close.”

Taking a sip of his juice, he questioned the guest…”Is the contract exclusive?” 

“No, it’s open. It’s time sensitive. It has to be handled quickly.” 

The tension seemed to build in his brightly lit living room. Then with a resigned sigh, he answered…”consider it done.” 

The Russian man stood with a subdued smile. “Thank you, Trowa. I knew I could trust you.” 

  
  


**The chess pieces assemble on the board:**

Trowa watched as the Russian man finally left his home, sighing in both relief and frustration. He didn’t relish the idea of his current job, but this  _ was _ the job. It was  _ his  _ job and he was good at it.

He moved toward his staircase, feeling along the wall until his fingers came across a barely noticeable groove. He then pushed and the once smooth surface popped open to reveal a secret room. The little hidden space under his stairs was stocked with everything a contract killer would liken to a candy store. He stood, just staring at his choices. He knew he had to prepare, but there was a tugging at what he supposed was his conscience... _ Huh? Didn’t realize I still had one.  _ He could have laughed if not for the current conflict of emotions coursing through him. Grabbing hold of his  take-down model, Ruger M77 specially fitted with suppressor and bipod, he brushed his thumb...almost lovingly...over it’s onyx metal .  A mantra started to form in his mind... _ it’s just a job. It’s just a job.  _

  
  
  


**As the sun set on yet another seemingly normal day,** one man made his way into the bustling city that never sleeps. He passed by a line of vehicles barely moving, not even noticing the angry glares from the frustrated drivers who slowly inched their way home on their daily commute.

Arrival at his destination was announced by a structure piercing the skyline more prominently than the other buildings surrounding it. The gleaming nod to architecture loomed over him as both a beacon and an omen. 

As he pulled to the front and exited his borrowed metal steed, he did not take note of the man across the street watching him as he entered the typical looking hotel.

Heero walked down the long straight path that led to the front desk. However, his direct access blocked by a woman receiving her room key. She had wavy black hair that came just below her shoulders and was dressed in a short black leather dress and a black fur coat. She turned and eyed him up in down in both recognition and clear appreciation. 

She moved like a jungle cat, her feminine form brushing slightly up against his, taking a brief yet meaningful pause, as she nearly purred…“Good seeing you again, Heero.” 

He nodded. “Miss Noin.” Instinctively pulling somewhat away from her as he then watched her saunter off. 

He finally made his way to the desk, the concierge spoke as he typed on the keyboard.

“I have you for two nights?” 

“It may be more, depending on business.” Heero responded. 

“Of course, sir.”

Heero eyed the white-haired man. He looked elderly, but looks could be deceiving, especially in this world. He personally knew that Pagan was unassumingly lethal, a man one could easily underestimate...a mistake that could cost you your life.

“So, when did this place get a facelift?” Heero inquired. 

“Roughly 4 years ago. But, I assure you sir, she really hasn’t changed much.” 

“Same owner?”

“Same owner.” Pagan looked Heero dead in the eyes as he nodded his head to further confirm his words.

Heero pulled one of the infamous gold coins from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He watched as Pagan fixed his fingers onto the coveted piece, and without taking his eyes off his computer screen, deposited the golden chip into his pocket. 

“Room 818.” Pagan announced.

Heero nodded and as he started to walk away, Pagan’s smooth British accent enveloped him once more.

“And as always, it is a pleasure having you with us again...Mr. Yuy.” 

Heero had stopped and turned to address the man as he spoke, but the words he said...even though they appeared harmless, they might as well have punched him in the gut. He realized now, he was back. This quiet entrance into this innocent looking hotel was the welcome back parade announcing his return into this world of ill repute. He knew this could truly be the point of no return. 

  
  


**Sitting in the solitude** of his dark rented room that overlooked the activity on the streets below, he paid no mind to the outside world. All he could see was the video containing the last lively images of his beloved as she stood on their beach. 

“What are you doing Heero?” Her voiced trilled out of the small speaker on his phone. The video image showed her smiling so brightly, the sun paled in comparison. 

“Looking at you.” He heard his own recorded voice answer her. 

“Come here.” The recorded version of his wife spoke with a mischievous smirk; the very same smirk that had always rendered him powerless to deny her anything. 

Pausing the video, he felt a wave of anguish pummel his already battered heart. He had played the video over and over, watching her as the wind tickled her skin and played with her golden locks. It was a consoling torment, yet, oddly enough, the only thing that made him feel as if he weren’t completely dead inside.

Just as quickly as his agony threatened to suffocate him, fury soon took its place. Just like he had exited this life...for her, he would step back in...to avenge her. 

As he rose to his feet, he knew what he needed to do. Making his way out of his room, down the hall and to the elevator, he waited as the classic lift carried him downward, all the way to the basement. Making his way through the little seen and less desirable areas of the antique hotel, he walked even lower through a hallway and down a short set of stairs, through a darkened corridor and soon arrived at a steel black door. He dropped one the notorious gold coins into the slot, to the right of the frame and immediately a latch could be heard that opened the look-through vent at the top center of the door. The eyes behind the slotted holes stared at him for all of two seconds before rapidly closing and then the door gave way, giving Heero access as he walked through. 

A vastly different world from the cold concrete of the basement, this sub-basement had been fashioned into that of a nightclub or lounge that provided one with the feeling of being in a speakeasy. 

While searching for his target, his eyes wandered over the long legs of the raven-haired Miss Noin. She sat at her small, round table, looking every bit of the the femme fatale she was, scantily clad in a sequined short black dress that hugged her every curve. As he passed by, she raised her glass of champagne to him with a flirtatious and dangerous grin.

Quickly disregarding the encounter, he finally located who he had come to see, walking with measured steps toward the man he had not laid eyes on in years.

“Milliardo.” Heero spoke in respect of the man who managed the establishment that gave them all refuge in this blood soaked occupation. 

The man looked up and a small smile played across his lips. With his lengthy silver hair, he was one you could not easily forget. His hair was a trademark, not unlike his towering stature, he was a force to be reckoned with. Yet, just like his long time concierge and trusted confidant, Pagan...they initially appeared as gentle souls. Heero never knew if that part was real or an act, but he did know that neither were to be trifled with. 

“Yuy.” Miliardo greeted him in a genuinely happy tone. Once upon a time, Heero would flinch at such a greeting. Miliardo and Pagan were the only ones allowed to call him solely by his last name and live to see the next sunrise. His last name was once a point of contention...until his wife so willing made it her own. 

“Now...as I recall, weren’t you the one to dole out the beatings, not receive them?” Milliardo chuckled at his little joke. 

Heero could have laughed as well, but he knew Miliardo was indirectly inquiring about the still healing wounds left on his face, a reminder of the would-be assassins he’d left dead on his floor.

“Rusty, I guess.” Was the only audible reply Heero voiced. 

“Miliardo’s eyes were sharp, yet kind with a hint of concern, but his ever-present business acumen laced his tone…”I would ask, to what do we owe the pleasure? However, I am sure you are not surprised by the fact that I have already been apprised of the current events that have taken place. So, I will just ask you, what would you like to do?”

Heero was not surprised that word of his latest exploits had already spread this far. There was no point in mincing words. 

“I would like to talk with him _.” _

Mocking surprise sprang to Miliardo’s face as he took hold of his martini. "A talk, you say?” He then took a sip of his chilled cocktail. 

“I’m familiar with the parlance, Yuy. I want to ask you this...have you returned to the fold?” 

Heero gave a look of irritation as he replied… "Just visiting.” 

“Have you thought this through? I mean, chewed, down, to the bone? You got out once. You dip so much as a pinky back into this pond...you may well find something that reaches out and drags you back into its depths.” The look of pure acerbity Miliardo was aiming at him would have made him uncomfortable...if he were anyone else. 

“Where do I find him?” Heero spoke in a calm tone that dripped with righteous indignation. 

  
  


“ **Heero Yuy is at the Continental.”**

“Welcome home, Heero,” the Russian man whispered in exhaustion.

“We have a contact that is willing to take him out for us,” Dorothy spoke in excitement, as if she had single-handedly solved the problem. “So, what do you think, boss? Ya? Is it a go?” 

Her boss looked at her with tired eyes… "How brazen.” He whispered. With a heavy sigh, he spoke his order. "If they are willing to break the rules of the Continental...double the bounty.” 

  
  
  


**“You know the rules…** no business can be conducted on these premises, lest incurring heavy penalties,” Miliardo spoke with clear authority. The last word dripped with the inference that these rules were absolute. 

Miliardo once again took hold of his martini… "Have a drink,” Miliardo took a generous sip of his favored beverage", and relax...for now.” The way Milliardo eyed him as he said that did the opposite of encouraging him to relax. 

Heero watched the man set his martini glass back onto the table, replace his reading glasses, and turn his attention back to the paperwork he had been attending to before his appearance. 

Heero could guess his face showed incredulity and thinly veiled rage as he spoke once more… "It’s personal”...then he rose from his seat and walked away from the silver-haired man. 

Deciding he was in need of a drink after-all, he made his way to the bar, and then heard a familiar voice. 

“Oh, shit! Heero?”

“Hey, Sylvia,” Heero spoke in reserved surprised. 

A pretty blonde with tattoos covering her slender arms, her shoulder length hair curled and fashioned into a style that made her look just like a 1940’s pin up girl. Shock laced her tone as she reached across the bar and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“My God! How long has it been? Four years?” She smiled as she inquired. 

“Five and some change,” Heero replied.

She graced him with a wide, if not somewhat flirtatious grin as she leaned onto the bar, moving toward his tall frame. 

“So, tell me...how was life on the other side?” 

“It was good, Sylvie...far better than I deserved.” Heero voiced his answer as sincerely as he could as raw emotion still managed to seep through his failed linguistic shield. 

Sylvia briefly caught the sight of a grieving husband and bowed her head. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to hear about yo..” 

“Thanks,” Heero cut her condolences short, he really couldn’t bear to hear one more. 

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Sylvia spoke in disbelief.

“Like what?” Heero questioned. 

“Vulnerable.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was her words or the truth of them that jarred him, but he did know it could prove to be problematic...now that he was back in this world. 

In an attempt to shake it off, he tried to change the subject. 

“I’m retired.” 

“Not if your drinking here, you’re not.” 

Again her truth caught him off guard, but thankfully she took the awkward silence as her opportunity to change the topic. 

She twisted off the bar as she gave him a good look at her curves and aimed a thumb over in the direction of all the different offerings of liquor. “Usual?” She voiced in a flirty tone while batting her eyelashes. 

“Please.” Heero spoke, unaffected by her flirtations. This was her job, and while she certainly liked some customers more than others, she was, by design, always angling for more tips. 

No sooner had he finished his inner monologue, she returned. “Compliments of the house.” 

“Thanks.” As he looked at his drink he noticed his napkin had  _ Red Circle  _ written on it with a lipstick stain kiss below it. Looking behind him, he saw Miliardo raising his treasured martini toward him in salute. Heero immediately left, leaving his ‘usual’ untouched. 

He had to prepare for his “talk”. 

  
  
  


**The Red Circle Nightclub.**

The techno music pulsated throughout every centimeter of the popular nightclub, vibrating the floor and energizing the people enslaved to its beats. The frosty blue hues from the strobe bathed the patrons in artificial lights as they danced with abandon. 

Not a single clubgoer noticed or cared to pay attention to the intimidating individuals in black suits monitoring the activity of everyone inside, as well as the surrounding perimeter outside. They were on high-alert, looking for any signs of infiltration by one man...the very man that was coming for the one they were ordered to protect. 

They all knew their odds were less than anyone might consider good, but that did not stop them from doing their duty. They would all go down fighting, as this was just one of the risks incurred in their line of work. However, going up against Baba Yaga...was something no one ever wanted to do. 

The head of this security detail was led by Anastasia Une. She had proved ruthless in her climb to the top of the organization’s ladder. Severe and not one for nonsense, she was structured, even in her bloodshed, but she also knew how to play the game. She could keep her boss happy, even if that meant having to deal with his imbecilic offspring. Normally, this was not her job, but the little shit had awoken a beast and his father needed his best on this job...and she was his best. 

Anastasia did not relish this particular job. She had witnessed the expertise of Heero Yuy personally. Even in his youth, he was terrifying. As he matured, his skill became unfathomable. But, she was no longer a child; no longer wet behind the ears...she was a seasoned professional, highly skilled in the art of problem eradication. As she quickly moved downward towards the private pool of the club, her ears were assaulted by obnoxious and intoxicated singing. 

“Aaaahhhh, Cat!” Vladik raised a bottle of champagne to her as she approached and he struggled to catch his balance in the water. “Come, have a drink with us.” 

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes or shoot him, instead she spoke her mind...as usual. 

“My JOB is to protect you. NOT babysit a drunkard.” 

The man-child looked purely indignant. “Are you scared of the fucking boogyman? I’m not.” 

This time, Katrina did roll her eyes at his obvious fear and fake bravado. She bent down, ripping the bottle from his hand and leveled a look at him that killed any buzz he had previously acquired. 

“You should be.” She spoke in severe sincerity as she rose and walked away from the little asshole, hearing him yell at his lackeys for another bottle. 

  
  
  


**Outside the Red Circle,** she stood at her post, inhaling the frigid night air. As she looked at the sky against the lights of Time Square, she found herself praying that she might avoid this fight entirely. She knew the man in question and while they had never personally engaged in combat, they always managed to somehow maintain an unspoken respect for one another. Perhaps because she had never gone after him, as she was not as enthusiastic or stupid as her comrades. 

As her thoughts began to wonder, she now sighed as she felt the icy kiss of steel on the back of her neck. As quiet as a ghost, he had appeared, and she instinctively knew who was holding her at gunpoint.

“Hello, Sally.” His voice just as smooth and dangerous as she remembered.

In that moment, she was grateful that she was turned away from him as her eyes were starting to blur with unshed emotion. 

“Hello, Mr. Yuy.”

“Your hair is shorter.” 

“Yes, I cut it. Something different.” She marveled at her current ability to create small talk so easily. 

“It looks nice.” 

_ Is he really complimenting me before he shoots me?  _ She couldn’t help as the mundane question popped in her mind. 

“Are you here on business?” She managed to say without missing a beat. 

“Afraid so, Sally.” Her unshed tears now threatened to fall as she could feel her heart start to pound, in what she believed to be her last moments. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, Sally.” It wasn’t a question, and not really a command, but a choice. A choice between life and death; a choice he certainly did not need to offer to her. 

Hearing the words that provided a second chance, she came to understand that these were not her last moments after-all. She slowly reached for her earpiece and removed it, as she turned to face the man behind her. 

“Thank you, sir.” It was all she could say, it was all that needed to be said. 

She turned and walked briskly into the night, attempting to calm her rapid breathing as she realized that this was the new beginning she had longed for. She had never been right for this lifestyle, but she had followed her sister, after their parents had died. Where her big sister led, she always followed, as a way to stay together and look after one another; but it soon became clear that her sister had plans of moving up within their ranks. 

Her sister excelled at this life and she...did not. It had become obvious, as the years went on, they were growing apart and truly becoming two completely different people. Sally knew that it was only because of her sister that she was protected in this life. However, Sally was also exhausted and she desperately needed out, but there was only one way that goal could be acquired. She had even contemplated taking her sister out herself, just to be free, but she knew she would be killed before she made it out of the door. So, she stayed and she endured; always dreaming of another way. 

Now, the very man the organization feared was back and with him came her one and only opportunity for freedom, and she would be damned if she didn’t take it. Every bodyguard and hired security agent would be handled one way or another...and that included her sister. There was a time this would have pained her more, but things had just changed far too much to ever go back to what they once were. Her sister would never let her go...this was the only way. 

She had her fantasy plan in place for quite some time and now she could actually act upon it. She would be leaving the city tonight. She was finally free, the overwhelming thought had her stopping in mid-step, turning around and taking one last look at the place that had held her hostage for so long. She whispered to the icy air…”I love you, Anastasia. Goodbye, sister.” 

She allowed one tear to fall before disappearing into the shadows. 

  
  
  


**Moving in obscurity,** Heero found himself in the locker room and bathroom of the private area of the club, easily eliminating one of the many hired hands by swiftly snapping his neck. As the lifeless man slid down the wall, Heero saw the asshole who pretended to play nice at the gas station. The prick who told him to have a good day, only to break into his home and tear apart what was left of his world. 

The man looked up from the sink as his eyes locked onto Heero’s in the mirror. As the man turned around, Heero punched him in the face. 

“Where’s Vladik?” 

“Fu...ck you! Motherfucker.” 

Heero kicked the man in the balls and placed him in a headlock, squeezing tighter as the man struggled to breathe. 

“Where is Vladik?” 

“Do...down..stairs...The pool!” The man spit out through labored breaths and blood. 

“You stole my car.” 

Heero slammed the man’s head onto the countertop, then brought him back up to face him. 

“You killed my dog!”

He then shoved the man’s face in the sink filled with water, holding him there as the man once again fought for breath. Yet, even in his obstinate battle for oxygen, the stubborn man managed to say “fuck you” in his last breath. Heero kept the man in the water until his effort ceased, and as the body fell to the ground...Heero pocketed the man’s cell phone.

So began Heero’s silent and merciless infiltration into the underbelly of the club. Every soul that crossed his path, fell by his hands, and with every body that dropped, he came one step closer to his target. He could almost taste the victory of this mission being completed. In this moment, he knew he was a crazed man, hell bent on vengeance and caring of nothing else. He could feel the blood pumping harder in his veins with every life he took. How easily this all came back to him. It would have been startling if it hadn’t felt so horrifically normal. 

Another guard walked in the door behind him, nearly catching him off guard. Heero managed to stop the man from pulling his gun, but they ended up in fierce hand to hand combat as they flew through a window and at that point, Heero’s presence was announced. 

As Heero managed to get his combatant on the ground, he pulled his gun and shot several other guards running toward him. Then Heero locked eyes with Vladik, who was momentarily frozen in place in the pool. Heero aimed his gun at Vladik’s head. Vladik could do nothing but watch, as if in slow motion, he witnessed Heero effortlessly take out the man beneath him with a single kill shot, all the while not taking his eyes off of him.

As Heero rose and started walking toward Vladik, another man jumped in his path, blocking him from his target. The new thug gave him a few seconds worth of struggle, until Heero shot several bullets into him. Heero watched as Vladik ran from the pool, cowardly using one of his party girls as cover. 

Heero retired his Glock that had served him well in the first part of his mission. Now he pulled out his P30L with custom compensator. If he was crazed before, now he was seeing red. Vladik truly was scum, hiding behind his  _ father _ . 

Heero shot at the glass that Vladik ran behind and if Heero had been in a different mindset, he could have acknowledged how well the weasel managed to evade his bullets.

As more guards made themselves known by way of shots being fired at him, he returned fire as he kept his eyes locked on his target. Now, they were in the main area of the club and the little shit was running right in the middle of the dance floor, one hand on the towel around his waist, while his other hand was clutching his gun. Once again, he was trying to procure cover from innocent people that had nothing to do with this. 

Vladik ran to the guards at the other side of the dance floor. Heero couldn’t hear, but he could see how he would yell at the hired help. It was pretty clear the frightened twat was yelling at them to shoot at him, made obvious by his frantic pointing in his direction. Unfortunately those hired guns didn’t know what they were dealing with as they foolishly moved to follow orders. Heero took each one down with a well aimed shot. They fell at his feet and he moved without impediment, as if the men had not provided a challenge...which in truth, they did not. 

As Vladik continued to run, this time up the back staircase, the goons for hire swarmed Heero, and he responded by shooting his way through those that would try to take his life. The entire time he still stayed in pursuit of his target. He made his way up to the second level, reloading in a split second as he continued to take out each man who came at him. 

Even with the amount of bullets being discharged, he never hit another innocent bystander. It was bad enough the bastard was running through a sea of people, the last thing he wanted was someone getting hurt that was not involved. 

Just as the people scattered, he finally had a clear shot, he was aiming at the son of bitch as he went to run through a set of double doors; but another thug shot at him, making him miss. He truly hated missing his intended target, and in this moment...he now had a new target. His rage on overdrive, he grabbed one of the heavy crystal table vases and smashed it into the asshole’s face. Slamming the guy’s head onto the bar table and firing off a bullet into his brain...his anger getting the better of him, he pulled the trigger again just for good measure. 

As he turned to continue walking onward, he felt the impact of one bullet hit his shoulder and another hit his side as he fell onto his back. That simple act confirmed that he had made his way through the hired goons and now he was playing with the inner circle. He was close and even though he was now wounded, the adrenaline pumping through his veins was all he felt now. This was proven by the fact that he shot three bullets into one of the motherfuckers that had landed one in him. 

The sound of bullets flying through the air, aimed at him, were too close for comfort...those bullets were coming from only person, one woman. He knew this style of shooting. He contemplated this fact as he reached for his magazine clip to reload and found that he had already used it. 

He cursed to himself, just as the  _ bitch _ who managed to shoot him came up on him like a shark, rounding the pillar he was currently taking a breather behind. 

A violent play commenced as their dance of hand to hand combat ensued, and just as quickly she kicked him in the fresh wound she had inflicted on him just moments prior. Each were trained in martial arts and they were both exhibiting their mastery of the craft. As he started to gain the upper hand, she grabbed a bottle of champagne within her reach and smashed it into the wound at his side. She kept taking her cheap shots and he was so busy deflecting, she managed to pick him up and throw him over the balcony. As soon as he hit the ground, he grabbed his next backup gun and fired a couple bullets at her, as she peered down at him with a self-satisfied grin. In his disoriented state, he knew he wouldn’t hit her, but it honestly just felt good to at least send a portion of his anger in her direction.

As he lifted himself from the cold concrete, he made his way out of the main entrance of the club with the remaining clubgoers, when a cell phone rang. Heero quickly realized it was the phone he had lifted from his second victim of the night. 

“Victor!? Where the fuck are you?!” The Russian screeched through the receiver, clearly panicked and that provided a certain type of satisfaction to Heero. He may not have taken Vladik out...yet, but just to know he had him running scared was the appetizer to his upcoming and assured main course...his victory...the end. 

“Victor’s dead. Everything has a price.” Heero replied in their native tongue, then hung up the phone as he tossed it away and heard it shatter on the concrete. 

  
  
  


**Back at The Continental.**

A wounded and bleeding Heero limped toward the front desk to the ever present Pagan manning his post. 

“Good evening Mr. Yuy.” 

“Good evening.”

“How may I be of service?” 

Heero leaned on the desk. “Is the doctor in?” 

“Yes sir. 24/7.” 

“Send him up, please.” Heero spoke through his pain. 

“Yes, sir.”

“How good is your laundry?” Heero asked in hope. 

As Pagan assessed the bloodsoaked man before him, he appeared to be hesitant to reply. 

“I’m sorry to say that no one is that good.” 

Heero nodded. “No. I thought not.” 

As Heero turned to leave, once more Pagan spoke. “Might I suggest a drink, sir? Bourbon perhaps?” 

Heero nodded once again. “That sounds perfect.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**As he poured himself a glass of Bourbon,** the hotel doctor worked quickly and efficiently. 

“So, what sort of movement am I looking at?” 

“Well, if you’re looking to heal? I would keep it marginal.” The old doctor sighed. “However, if you still have business to attend to”...he grabbed a pill bottle from his bag… “take two of these beforehand.” 

In exasperation, he spoke again. “Your stitches will tear and you’ll bleed, but you’ll have full function.” The tired man rose to start gathering up his belongings. “Do you need anything for the pain?” 

Heero raised his glass. “No, I’ve got that covered,” as he downed the rest of his generously poured Bourbon. 

  
  
  


**Trowa arrived on the roof across the street from The Continental** ...or more accurately, the building that gave Trowa a clear view and shot into the room where his target was currently occupying. 

He walked with purpose, but slowly, briefly admiring the night sky. As he placed his reinforced carrying case down and popped it open, he appeared to be in no particular hurry as he assembled his beloved rifle under the moonlight. 

Once he was set up, he spied his target, injured and resting on his bed. Trowa’s shot was clear. Yet, despite the perfect shot, Trowa noticed his own hesitation. He was equally perplexed by the fact that Heero would make such a rookie mistake as to leave his curtains open. He supposed this was either Heero not giving a damn or just being rusty after all these years. 

As he peered through his scope again, he noticed movement down the hallway, by the door. In that moment, all Trowa could think to do was alert Heero. So, he sent a shot into the pillow next to his head. 

  
  
  


**Heero rolled onto the floor from the bed,** only to be shot at from the other direction. 

“Hi, Heero.” 

Hopping back onto the bed, he rolled across, the bullets following his movements as he landed on the other side. 

“Miss Noin,” Heero spoke in exasperated. 

“I thought I would let myself in,” Noin spoke from the other side of the wall. 

“I noticed.”

Heero quickly removed his arm from the sling the doctor had fitted him with, wrapping it around his hand, readying to use it against the women who was currently attempting to kill him. 

She moved from the wall as he lunged in that direction, his previous arm sling now catching hold of her gun as the bullet intended for him went into the floor. Once he had relieved her of her weapon, he had her pinned up against the wall. 

“I never knew Miss Noin got out of bed for less than three.”

“I’ve been offered four to break hotel rules.” She spoke with a fire in her eyes as her hands reached for purchase on anything that might aid her in breaking his crushing grip. 

“That’s unwise, I assure you.” He spoke the words as he pulled her from the wall, using the fabric from his sling, by wrapping it around her neck and tossing her over his shoulder to the floor. He then pulled her up to face him again. 

“You were always a pussy.” She said in hopes of irking him. 

He held the upper hand for a couple seconds more until he broke his hold on her and now she was the one throwing him to the ground as he had done to her moments prior. 

As he lifted himself from the ground, she had now charged him and they engaged in full on combat. She was a hellcat, true to her nature. They rolled onto the couch and she was attempting to choke him, but as he managed to rise off the couch, she wouldn’t let go, so he slammed her into the glass shelves on the wall. Then they found themselves on the bed and she aimed every kick and punch to his now reopened wound. Once more Noin took hold of his neck, clinging to his back as he now slammed her into the TV on the wall, in an attempt to loosen her death grip. When that didn’t work he threw her body onto the dining table. Finally she released him as she fell onto the table, breaking it and falling to the floor. Heero grabbed a sheet from the bed, wrapping it around Noin’s head and landed a punch that knocked her out cold. For good measure, he threw her through the stained glass room divider. All the while Trowa had watched through his rifle scope from the roof across the street.

As Miss Noin lay unconscious and finally bereft of her fight, Heero now had a moment to answer his room phone, that had been ringing out since his little tussle with Miss Noin had started. 

“Yes?” 

“I apologize for calling you at this hour, but we have received a number of grievances from your floor concerning the noise.” 

“My apologies, I was dealing with an...uninvited guest.” 

“ Have you need then of, say, a dinner reservation,perhaps?” 

“Perhaps. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

Heero hung up the phone and grabbed his gun as he headed off to the now awake and crawling Miss Noin. She was bloodied and plenty injured from her attempt to bring him down. 

As he watched her crawl on her one good arm out of his room and into the hallway, he grabbed her by her hair, aiming at her head.

“Where’s Vladik?” He spoke calmly, but with all the severity of a man that would not think twice before pulling the trigger that would end her life. 

“Fuck you,” she breathed painfully through her bleeding teeth. 

He asked again as he pressed the barrel of his gun harder into the side of her head. 

“I’m not telling you shit,” she managed to sputter through her clear discomfort.

“Do you really want to die here, Noin?” He pressed the steel harder against her battered head. “Give me something,” he whispered in a nearly pleading tone. 

He could see as Miss Noin struggled between her stubborn nature and her desire to live. It did not escape his attention the moment she decided that she did not want to die here at his hands. 

“Little Russia. There’s a church. Near Cannon Court,” she whispered through her anguish. 

“What about it?” He responded, clearly losing his patience. 

“It’s a front. It’s where the boss keeps his private stash.” 

“Thank you.” 

She gave him a less than pleased look as her reply to his gratitude, and he responded by knocking her unconscious with the handle of his gun. . 

Before he could move to stand, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun click from behind him. Then a familiar sounding voice inquired...“Do I know you?”

“I’m thinking so,” Heero spoke as he raised his hands in surrender, and he slowly turned around to face the man holding him at gunpoint. 

As he now faced the man in question, they both immediately relaxed. 

“Hey, Heero.” 

“Hey, Wufei.” 

“Everything alright?” Wufei asked skeptically.

“Yeah…” Heero looked back at the still unconscious Miss Noin. “Everything is fine.” 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Wufei said as he started to go back inside his hotel room. 

“Hey, Wufei...how would you feel about earning a coin? Babysittin’ the sleeping one?” 

Wufei looked warily at the unconscious woman on the ground. 

“Catch and release?” 

“Catch and release,” Heero confirmed. 

  
  
  


**Little Russia.**

Heero popped a couple of his pills from the doctor once he had approached the innocent looking church. 

As he entered the ancient cathedral, he noticed a few people (mainly elderly) scattered throughout the supposed house of worship, looking every bit the devout followers. But he knew the truth. 

As he walked further into the “church” he noticed as a couple of the male “worshippers” eyed him with a certain level of malice. It didn’t phase him. He had come to do a job and leave a message that could not be ignored. 

“My son, how might I help you?” Asked the so-called priest who met him at the end of the aisle. 

The one parading as a man of God did not receive a verbal answer as Heero unzipped the oversized leather bag on his shoulder and pulled out a CA-415 rifle, immediately shooting the imitator twice in the knee. As several of the pretend worshippers rose from their fake prayers, Heero shot them all one by one, except for one...an elderly lady who appeared not to be part of this scenario.  _ Poor lady. She honestly thought this was a house of worship.  _

“MOTHER FUCKER!” The pretender priest yelled in English and quickly turned to his native tongue…”Do you know who you are fucking with?!” 

Heero walked up to Charlatan, “Yes. Yes I do.” answering in their shared language. He then hauled the imposter up on his feet, ignoring his pained groans as he forcefully guided him along. Heero switched back to English. “Let’s go to the vault.” 

As they neared the lower level of the house that blasphemy built, the two pathetic “guards” were all too easily disposed of by two bullets aimed directly at their heads. The bastards didn’t even see it coming. 

As Heero pushed his unwilling and wounded captive past the two bodies, he pushed the deceiver into the iron gates that protected the beloved money of the boss. 

“Open it,” he ordered as he once again aimed his rifle at the obstinate old man. 

“Do you think you can scare me into opening this gate?” The man once again spoke in Russian as he clung to the bars, his wounds already taking their toll as he was now sweating profusely. 

Heero did not fail or falter in regaining the demeanor of his former name, Baba Yaga, as he held the rifle so steady it was if it he were stone, his look so severe, his eyes were black. 

“Yes, I do. Open it.” He whispered in chilling ferocity. 

The elderly man that had been so full of defiance just seconds ago, was now speaking in sheer terror and pain, this time in English. “The boss will kill me.” 

As Heero was about to respond, he heard a noise and turned around to find one of the so-called guards had not died after-all. But as he rounded on the wounded imbecile, Heero sent a kill shot straight at him. As the brief interruption fell to the ground, now dead, Heero swung back around to the man in question, aiming his freshly fired rifle closer to his head. 

“Uh huh,” were the only words spoken by Heero, so cold and detached as if he were a robot. Heero could see the confusion and fear flash within the eyes of the fake priest and Heero knew that while he might have left this world, this world had never truly left him. It was far too easy to fall back into this emotionless, callous and ultimately ruthless role. 

He watched the man before him sigh in defeat as he grunted in his movement toward the panel on the bars and punched in the code as the steel barred door popped open.

Walking into the interior of the vault, he was happy to see that in this moment, he had not lost all of his humanity. 

“Ladies, out.” He motioned to the two frightened women who held up their hands in surrender as he walked through the door. They ran past him in obvious fright, but despite their fear, it did not stop him from wishing them well in their native tongue. “Have a nice day.” 

As he collected all of the cash and treasures in the vault into one big pile, the “priest” spoke again in English while he watched from the floor, struggling with his pain from the bullet wounds in his knees. 

“Honestly, what do you think you are going to do with all of it?” 

Heero didn’t even look in the direction the man, keeping his focus on his task as he answered...“This”...Heero lit the pile on fire and walked away. 

  
  
  


**Now standing on the rooftop across from the church,** Heero watched as the boss arrived. Even on the roof, he could hear the old man speak in their native tongue. 

“Get me that fucking idiot.” 

It was broad daylight, and there he stood on the roof across the street and watched as the boss shot the pretender priest in the face, while he tried in futility to beg for his life. 

  
  
  


**At The Continental…**

Wufei ripped the duct tape from Miss Noin’s mouth and watched as she didn’t make a sound, but did give him a rather nasty look. It was understandable as she was bound by her hands. 

“Don’t worry. Housekeeping will find you.” He spoke as he moved to gather his items in preparation of his imminent departure. 

“Treat all your ladies like this?” Noin questioned with venom in her voice. 

Wufei spoke calmly, unaffected by her ire. “You...are no lady. Trust me.” 

He grasped the gold coin he had just earned by doing this little side job and smiled as the light glinted off of it’s brilliant exterior. 

“Wufei, is it?” Noin spoke again with a cat-like grin on her face. “How would you like to earn more than just a gold coin?”

Wufei walked towards here. “Women...you are all the same, so impetuous.” He shook his head. “You’ve broken the rules. You’ve done business on Continental grounds, and management does not take kindly to that sort of behavior.” He had bent down to speak to her as if he were a school teacher scolding a student. 

“Fuck management,” Noin replied as she headbutted Wufei and jumped from her chair. She had managed to dislocate her thumbs in order to slide out of the handcuffs. 

As Wufei stumbled back in pain and shock, he did not have time to catch his bearings as he stumbled and fell onto the bed, where Noin quickly took advantage by throwing a pillow over his face, grabbing the gun on the bed and shooting him through the pillow. 

As feathers from the pillow now floated through the air and Wufei’s blood now stained the bed, Noin spoke in petulant victory. ‘Don’t worry. Housekeeping will find ya.” She threw the gun on the bed and pilfered his pockets to locate the gold coin. She held it between two fingers as she admired the gilded piece and walked away from the scene of her crime. 

  
  
  
  


**“SHIT!”**

The boss spoke in anger in his beloved Russian tongue, then he switched to English for the sake of Dorothy, who he could hear sigh in frustration. He rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Ashes to ashes.” He turned to his blonde Lieutenant and yelled…”Can we recover from this?!” 

Dorothy was clearly irritated and equally concerned. “You know what was in that vault, sir.” 

No sooner had the words left her lips, when a gunshot rang out and the man standing behind her dropped like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. 

Anastasia had almost been hit, but she knew it was not by accident. It was a clear message that the man himself, the one they feared, the one they were ordered to kill...had arrived. 

He announced his arrival in a barrage of gunfire, showering the open area with bullets like he was throwing out candy at Mardigras. She immediately went into battle mode, automatically shielding the boss and Dorothy by stepping in front of them and returning fire. 

As they had formed a single line behind her, using a vehicle for cover, she focused on her target. She didn’t allow the hail of live ammo or the fact that her men were dropping like flies distract her. She concentrated on where _his_ gunfire was originating from. This is what she had trained for; maybe not going up against him specifically, but regardless this was her time to do or die. 

She yelled at the one remaining man still in their direct vicinity. “Cover me.” She made her way to one of their black SUVs sitting not too far from her current location. Just as she had expected, Heero’s accuracy was lethal as always. The man she ordered to cover her had expired, but that had worked out for her as she made her way to the vehicle. As she hastily hopped inside, she found the keys still hanging in the ignition. She cranked the engine, put it in drive and floored it. Playing fair had never been her MO. She won, by any means necessary. 

As Heero took cover behind another empty SUV, he reloaded his trusty rifle and continued his assault. Taking kill shot after kill shot aimed at the goons who were attempting to protect the man who destroyed what was left of his life. With every bullet that left his rifle, he could feel his victory close at hand.

Just as he had cleared the path to his target, the SUV that he was using for cover was jolted sideways, as another SUV careened into its side, causing him to go flying across the parking lot and land face down upon the unforgiving ground. 

As his stunned senses fought to regain his bearings, his keen hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls advancing toward his currently exposed and vulnerable position. That was his last thought as the darkest enveloped him. 

  
  
  


**Once consciousness found him again,** pain was all that he felt throughout his head and extremities. His hands were bound and he was sitting in a chair. The next sound he heard was  _ his  _ voice. 

“I say this, Heero, they sure as fuck broke the mold with you.” 

Heero did not respond. Frankly, at the moment he didn’t care to look at “the boss” just yet. So, instead he watched as a blonde woman placed a chair directly across from him. Then “the boss” took the seat and spoke almost excitedly, as if this were a proud moment for him. 

“Ah, ay. You always had a certain...audacity about you.” He seemed to let out some form of a laugh. “I can say you’re still very much the Heero Yuy of old.” 

Being face to face like this was causing an internal reaction Heero he had not counted on. All he could voice in reply to the man’s odd choice of topic was. “Am I?”

“People don't change. You know that. Times, they do.” Hearing these words from  _ him  _ and seeing the way he expelled his exasperated breath with a hint of sadness, started to make Heero’s blood boil. 

“Do you know what was in that vault? Cash, artwork, not without its worth, but the leverage I had on this city; audio recordings, physical evidence, blackmail. It was fuckin' priceless!”

The boss had been waving his hands in frustration to further illustrate his displeasure. Heero had long ago become accustomed to this type of behavior from the man, and it only served to fuel the raging inferno that was violently churning within his soul. 

After his rant, he walked back toward Heero and yelled in his face. “PRICELESS!”

With a deep breath Heero spoke his truth and the words he knew would get at the old man’s goat. “Yeah, I kinda enjoyed that.” 

The boss emitted an exasperated laugh stuck somewhere between mocking and truthful. 

“Yeah, I know you did.” 

Heero stared him down with hateful eyes as the old man walked toward him and then punched him in the face. Even with his injuries, while he swayed with the force of the punch, he did not cry out, despite the old bastard’s wish for it. 

“So...I heard you got married, ah? Settled down. How did you manage that anyways?” 

“Luck, I guess.” Heero grinded out. 

“Yeah. Well, while you had your wife, I had my son. And believe me, you had a far better deal.” The old man laughed in sincerity, as if words would somehow provide any kind of compensation for the gaping wound that had been torn through Heero’s soul and now remained forever altered, never to be repaired. 

The boss rose from his chair and then swooped back down to get right into Heero’s face. 

“You left. And the way you got out, lying to yourself that the past held no sway over the future. But in the end, a lot of us are rewarded for our misdeeds. Which is why God took your wife and unleashed you upon me. This life follows you. It clings to you, infecting everyone who comes close to you. We are cursed, you and I.”

“Oh that we agree.” Heero breathed out through his barely checked rage. 

Shock seemed to color the old man’s face as he sat back and let out a half laugh. “Finally, common ground.” 

Heero couldn’t take anymore of this insipid rambling, he had to speak. “Step aside and give me your son.” 

The jocular expression fell away from the old man’s face and he whispered, ”Heero Yuy.” He spoke the name as if it weren’t real. 

He chuckled mockingly now as he moved right back up in his face. “Baba Yaga.” He then turned away as he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair in discontent. Donning his jacket, he spoke in anger yet again. “It was just a fucking car! Just a fucking dog!” 

Heero saw red as he once again found his voice. “Just-a-fucking-dog?” He looked at the old man _ ,  _ allowing a rare moment when all his emotion was visible through the pain in his words. 

“When Relena...died I lost everything...until that dog arrived on my doorstep...a final gift from my wife. In that moment I received some semblance of hope. An opportunity to grieve...unalone.” As he breathed through the words, rage started taking the place of his pain. “And your son took that from me.” He looked up, allowing  _ him _ to see the fury that he held so tightly in check, the same fury that had helped create Baba Yaga. In that instance the dam inside his soul had started to crack, his control had unequivocally lost out to his temper. His animosity was on full display as he continued his verbal tirade… “Your son stole that from me! KILLED THAT FROM MEEE!!” His usually calm voice rose higher and higher with every truth. “People keep asking if I’m back and I haven’t really had an answer, but now...YEAH! I’m thinking I’m BACK! SO, YOU CAN EITHER HAND OVER YOUR SON OR YOU CAN DIE SCREAMING ALONGSIDE HIM!!!” 

Heero had jumped up from his seat, fueled by the violent thoughts slamming into his mind’s eye like a battering ram. As Anastasia and her lackey threw him back down into his seat, they closed a plastic bag over his head. 

Heero struggled as his previous ability to breath had been cut off. As he fought for a way to throw off his oppressors, a bullet shot through the stained glass window above, landing squarely into the brain of one of his captors. 

  
  
  


**Trowa reloaded as he retook his position on the rooftop across from the church.**

  
  
  


**The bag around Heero’s head** loosened and the air he had previously been deprived of flowed back into his lungs. He took a deep breath along with his opportunity to charge at Anastasia, before she could continue her earlier act of trying to suffocate him. 

He body-slammed her, knocking her down, while removing the plastic bag from his head. Just as he discarded the hindrance, she returned his body slam and they began their violent dance. 

Landing blow for blow, kicking, punching, headlocks and at one point she even managed to get a plastic sheet around his neck. As he once again struggled for breath and kicked around like a fish out of water, he finally got his opening, elbowing her in the face and she quickly released her death hold. But his victory was short lived as she once again got the upper hand. He managed to get one of her fingers into his mouth and he bit down hard, causing her to release her deadly grasp, distracting her long enough that he was able to get her into a headlock with his legs, swinging himself upward and then slamming her down to the ground. Now he was the one cutting off her air supply as he choked her with the rope still binding his hands. He exerted so much force that her neck snapped and all of her fight left her body right along with her soul...provided she still had one. 

Heero ran to the man that had fallen earlier by way of Trowa’s expert aim. He found a knife on the body and quickly cut through his hand restraints. He noticed the Kel-Tec KSG laying on the ground. He grabbed it and ran out the door. He made it outside just in time to see  _ him  _ being driven away in his signature black SUV.

Heero ran through the alley behind the church and came to the next street just as the vehicle he was hunting was about to pass. He raised his modified 12 gauge, letting multiple well placed shots land as the vehicle swerved off to the side and came to a stop next to him. He jumped onto the hood of the crashed SUV and shot off one round directly into the driver and then aimed squarely at “the boss”. 

“Okay, okay, okay.” The boss exited the SUV with his hands up. 

Heero pulled the trigger to fire a stray shot right next to the man, emphasizing the seriousness of his previous request. Had he not been drowning in his fury, he might have been able to appreciate the scream that the old man produced from the fear of thinking he was about to meet his end.

“Where is he?!” Heero yelled as he cocked the rifle and aimed it directly at the old man’s head.

“SHIT!” The old man let out a weary sigh of defeat, looking back up with eyes that Heero had only witnessed once before. 

“I have your word then? If I tell you where he is, you'll let me walk away?” Heero internally scoffed at what a coward this man truly was; another reason he had been happy to walk away. Once upon a time, he had been the kind of man that didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. But as his organization grew, he became too comfortable sitting on his bloody throne as he hid behind the ones willing to die for his selfish cause. 

“Pull the contract,” Heero spoke his demand. 

The momentarily defeated man breathed out...“Done.”

Heero nodded as he waited for the answer to his previous question. 

“He's...kept in a safe house. In Brooklyn. 434 Wallace Place. They know you're coming.”

“Of course. But it won't matter.” Heero said as he hopped down from the wrecked SUV’s hood, lowered his gun and walked away. 

  
  
  


**The Safe House.**

The little prince sat in the rundown living room of an empty old apartment building, watching as one of his entourage played Call of Duty. He was bored and frustrated with being cooped up in this tiny shit hole. His father’s men crawled all over the place, inside and out, constantly communicating with one another on their ear pieces. He was ready to leave and get back to his privileged life. 

“Would you stop playing that fucking video game!” Valdik yelled just as a bullet shot through the window, landing directly into his friend’s head. 

His jaw dropped in horror as one of his bodyguards screamed at him to get down. Then that man received a bullet to the head as well.

Vladik moved to the floor just as the newest corpse hit the ground. 

He watched as the men charged with his protection dropped all around him. However one managed to avoid the onslaught of gunfire, ducking as he ran and grabbed him by his jacket.

“Get up! Let’s go!” 

As they ran down the back stairs to the vehicles that were to provide their escape, a brilliant explosion met them, their only means of freedom turning to ash in front of their disbelieving eyes. 

The vehicles burned while the smoke billowed throughout the hollow space. They choked on the polluted vapors and as they tried to make their escape, then a bullet took out the only protection Vladik had left.

As he attempted to find a way out through the blackened plumes, he ran like a rat searching for higher ground in a flood. In his haste he came to a dead end and as he turned to run back out, the hunter had finally found his prey, announced by the bullet that had landed his his stomach. 

Vladik clutched his abdomen as the pain radiated from the bullet and shattered his ability to think. As he slid down the wall, now unable to stand, the man who had killed so many to get to him, walked with clear determination and Vladik shuddered...not from the blood loss, but the sheer hatred in this man’s eyes. 

Without hesitation, Heero raised his gun and aimed it at the ingrate. 

The Russian flowed from the dying manchild, “It was just a fuck…”

The sound of Heero’s gun cut him off, silencing him forever. 

Heero left the smoldering building. 

His mission was now complete.

  
  
  


**Back at The Continental…**

Heero walked up to the front desk to check out. 

“It’s been a pleasure having you with us again, sir.” Pagan spoke in sincerity as he slid a set of car keys across the desk top. “Compensation. For last night’s unfortunate incident.” 

They just stared at one another as unspoken understanding passed between them.

As Heero turned to leave, he noticed Trowa at the hotel bar and took a detour. 

“How many times do I have to save your ass?” Trowa smirked as he lifted his glass. 

“I appreciate it.” Heero said in an unemotional tone, but Trowa could detect his sincerity. 

“You look like hell, Heero.” 

“I look retired.” Heero snapped. 

“Do you really believe that?” Trowa looked at him in all seriousness. “Alright, Heero...you once told me to follow my emotions. Well I know you did the same when you found your new life and I know you will find your way back to it the same exact way. It’s time to go home.” Trowa spoke with a hint of sadness in his voice as he raised his nearly empty glass in solute and downed the rest of the contents. 

Heero nodded and turned to leave The Continental and this life for the last time. 

  
  


**As Trowa walked home,** it wasn’t just the night air that was sobering him up. It was the measured footfalls of two people closing in on him. 

As he neared his house, his front door swung open and he noticed Dorothy standing there with a wicked smile on her face. 

“Well, let’s get on with this...whatever the fuck this is?” Trowa spoke in resigned irritation. 

Trowa heard a pair of heels on his hardwood floor. 

“Miss Noin, I should have known,” he spoke in clear disgust.

She shrugged as she spoke. “In for a penny. In for a pound.” 

  
  
  


**As Heero drove home** in the new Dodge Charger the hotel had gifted him, his cell phone vibrated and suddenly an icy feeling crept over his entire being.

“This is Heero,” he answered.

“I appreciate you giving my son a swift death.” 

Heero knew this wasn’t a courtesy call, but he said nothing. 

“I wouldn’t know how to reply to that either,” the old man spoke almost mockingly as he continued… “Trowa betrayed me.” 

Heero suddenly felt that previously icy feeling turn his blood frigid. 

“Had he just killed you, before I pulled the contract, like he was supposed to...my son would still be alive! However, he broke the cardinal rule and therefore, Heero, I had no choice.” 

Heero hung up his phone as he u-turned and headed to Trowa’s house. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**She watched** from across the street as Heero arrived at Trowa’s house and she was ready to follow him, but her phone buzzed. 

“Miss Noin. I apologize for calling at this late hour.” Pagan said in purely professional fashion. 

She rolled her eyes. She was being summoned. 

  
  
  
  


**Heero walked into Trowa’s home** and was immediately greeted by the broken and bloodied body of his oldest acquaintance...and dare he say... _ friend _ . The man who had helped him out of more than a few scrapes, the man who had ultimately just forfeited his own life to protect his. 

Considering the position that Trowa’s body was in, he knew that Trowa had at least went out on his own terms. He would expect nothing less from the man who considered himself to be the last of the old guard. 

In that moment of loss, Heero made a decision that he had hoped he could avoid, but now it was clear...there was no other choice. He had laid the foundation of the current organization that had spun out of control, and now he had to be the one to cut the head off the beast. 

  
  
  
  


**As she walked into the empty courtyard of The Continental,** she immediately noticed exactly what she had expected, the top guards of the hotel surrounding her. 

“Miss Noin.” 

Milliardo walked swiftly towards her…”Your membership to The Continental has been, by thine own hand, revoked.” As quickly as he had walked to her, he passed by equally fast, and just as his last words left his lips, all four of the guards simultaneously shot her in the head. 

Milliardo didn’t give a second thought to her now lifeless corpse on the ground. He just kept walking. His hotel’s rules were absolute and no one was allowed to break them. This was all in a day's work as the manager of The Continental. 

Exiting the courtyard, he passed off a sought after gold coin to Quatre, as he and his cleaning crew appeared to dispose of the latest casualty of not adhering to the rules. 

  
  
  


**As Heero was about to leave,** his phone vibrated again, and he absent-mindedly answered. 

“I know what you’re thinking Heero. We live by a code. Which is why I’m not the one telling you  that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is being fueled for a certain someone.

Upon the completion of his words, Milliardo hung up. Heero had received the message. It had come at perfect timing, now he knew exactly where to go. 

  
  
  
  


**He laid his head back onto the leather headrest,** nursing the glass of whiskey in his hand as he was being driven to the helicopter. 

“Who is that behind us?” Dorothy questioned. 

He didn’t even have to look; he already knew and he let out a scoffing laugh. 

Dorothy’s eyes widened in shock as the SUV behind them was rammed into and pushed off the deep drop off of the dock. 

“SHIT!” She screamed as their backup vehicle was put out of commission. 

Next their SUV was being slammed into by Heero’s car. 

“What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” Dorothy screeched out in pure frustration. “Who’s got a gun? Give me a fucking gun!” She screamed. 

With every hit of their vehicle, Dorothy became more unhinged and the boss just laughed at his own stupid belief that Heero would leave things be. At that moment, the driver lost control and slammed into a pole. 

Heero was already speeding in reverse as one of the men jumped out with a rifle aimed at him. As he rammed into the car, the man was caught in between his car and the SUV, effectively ending him. 

The driver had narrowly escaped and ran behind a concrete pillar and Heero threw his car in drive as he followed him and swung his raven metal steed around the pillar; taking out the unlucky man with a well aimed shot to the head. 

In Dorothy’s quest to find a gun, her boss offered up his from his seat in the back. 

He had once again spoke in Russian. 

“ENGLISH?!” She yelled!

“Good luck, Dorothy!” She knew there was no confidence or real encouragement in his words.

She gave him a venomous look…”Russian cocksucker!” She yelled as she kicked open the damaged door and fell onto the glass covered ground...right next to the driver’s dead body. 

As Heero finally came to a stop, he was surprised as a bullet hit at the base of his open window. He saw Dorothy smile at her getting so close. He returned fire as he shot her in the knee.

“You son of a bitch!” She screamed like a banshee from hell. Heero sped up and came to a sliding stop sideways, as her wounded body could not move fast enough, and the impact killed her instantly. He did not look away as the light faded from her soulless eyes and she dropped to the ground. 

Before he could make another move, his driver’s side was hit. The old man was now driving the SUV and trying to push him and his car over the drop off. Heero grabbed his gun, that had been ejected from his grip at the impact, and started shooting at the bastard, but it did not deter him. 

Heero managed to jump out of the open space, where his windshield once was, right before his car fell over the edge. As he landed onto the concrete, the rain had started to fall, announced by the booming thunder and the crackling lightning dancing across the sky. 

Heero steadied his gun in his hand as he came up to the SUV, only to find it empty. He heard the approaching helicopter and then saw  _ him  _ making his way toward the incoming chopper. 

They locked eyes and just by that one poisonous look, Heero knew that it would all end here tonight...one way or another. 

The rain pelted them both and neither one seemed to notice or care. 

“I always knew you were special, Heero. You were supposed to my successor, but no! You had to leave, leave the life...leave me.” 

The words were like a searing white hot poker piercing his nerves with every utterance. 

“I came to you, I implored to you, but you had to make it difficult. YOU ALWAYS HAD TO MAKE EVERY GODDAMN THING DIFFICULT!” Heero screamed in rage through mother nature’s fury. 

“I COULDN’T JUST LET YOU GO! BESIDES, I HAD TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE ONE-HUNDRED PERCENT CERTAIN!” 

Heero raised his gun in his anger. 

“No more guns, Heero. No more bullets...just you and me.” The old man spoke in a normal tone, but despite the downpour, Heero heard him. 

Heero tossed his gun away and charged him. Heero quickly came to realize just how out of practice the old man really was as he was not able to put up much of a fight. 

“It seems the years of rotting on your throne have taken their toll.” Heero kicked him in the stomach and watched as he fell to the ground. 

“Hee...ro...how could you!” He gasped for air as he held his stomach. “I know...you hate...me, but...Vladik was...your brother.” 

Heero did not flinch. “Sharing the same genetic makeup does not make you family.” Heero spat out the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He then grabbed the weezing old man by the neck. “If it did, I would currently be bothered by the fact that I am about to kill my father.” 

Heero spat the word “father” as if it burned. 

“Ungrateful!” Odin yelled through his struggle to breathe. “You were always ungrateful! At least Vladik...tried! He...did...not...leave me!” 

Heero was squeezing Odin’s neck harder, in hopes that the ridiculous words would soon cease. He moved right into Odin’s face… “I did everything you asked and it was NEVER enough!” Heero seethed as he continued…”you NEVER saw me as a son...you saw me only as a weapon and a tool to do your evil bidding and build your empire! You were just pissed that I wised up to your game. Vladik was a witless, brainless moron who couldn’t operate without your direction, hardly heir material.” Heero seethed through his words. “I didn’t know who he was until Duo told me his name. Then it all made sense. That fucking curse! The curse you and I have always been under! No matter what I did, this part of my life would eventually always find me! It will always find me...as long as you are alive.” 

While he spoke, he allowed the man within his grasp the opportunity to breathe. He didn’t want him blacking out before he heard what he had to say. But before he could re-tighten his grip, the crafty old man had pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the side. “That’s for Vladik!” Odin yelled.

Heero let out a muffled yell in the form of a strangled grunt. Odin pushed the knife in further, but Heero grabbed his hand, halting its forward trajectory, and snapping the asshole’s wrist. The old man screamed in pain and Heero removed the knife, turned it around and looked at the old man dead in the eyes…”This is for my wife, my dog...MY family!” Heero plunged the knife into his father’s heart, watching as suffocation slithered over him and his crimson lifeforce spilled from his mouth. Heero witnessed that last flash of life flicker in his cold eyes for the final time.

Heero felt nothing...nothing but relief. It was finally over...he had ended the man who had created the monster he had become. Odin had made him believe he was nothing more than the perfect weapon. Relena had made him see that wasn’t true, she had given him a new life and a new hope.

At the thought of his wife, the adrenaline drained from his body just as quickly as it had filled it. Now he felt every bruise and every cut...more importantly, the wound in his side. 

As he started to run from the abandoned dock, he knew he needed to attend to his side as soon as possible. The rain had started coming down in sheets and he knew he couldn’t last much longer in this weather. 

As his legs finally carried him from the dock, he found himself leaning up against the nearest wall to try and catch his breath. That’s when he noticed a light coming from a window in a door. 

He gathered his strength to punch through the window and as it gave way, he reached through the shattered glass to unlock the door. He threw open the obstruction and stumbled inside. He noticed the fluorescent lighting illuminating what looked to be a clinic and he started searching for the necessary supplies to wrap his wound. His hyper sensitive hearing picked up on the unmistakable sounds of dogs barking, whimpering and howling...immediately realizing that he had found his way into a veterinarian’s office. He worked much faster to clean and wrap his wound than he thought possible, considering his current injured and exhausted state. 

Once clean and bandaged he took a minute to catch his breath and soon realized he was leaning up against a cage...and not an empty one. 

The large dog inside made no move to come near the cage door. The pup just stared at him and those large brown eyes struck Heero’s heart...reminding him of his little Mary. 

It was then that Heero noticed a note on the cage door indicating that this animal was to be destroyed the very next day. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had lost so much in his own recent history, so much he couldn’t stop, so much he couldn’t save...but now he could only see this as an opportunity to save an otherwise doomed creature. A small bit of redemption for them both. 

He unlocked the door, and as it swung open, the dog then stood up and tentatively walked towards him. He reached out to pet the unwanted animal and it in that moment, the dog started wagging it’s tail and Heero felt a sliver of his heart come to life once more. His wife had instructed him to find his happiness; a new mission of sorts. He wasn’t sure if it was truly possible for him or if he even really deserved it, but right now...in this instance, he had discovered some semblance of comfort, and that was a start. 

“Let’s go home.” 

  
  


**THE END!**

* * *

  
  
  


**This is one I have been wanting to do for a while. The parallels between Heero and John Wick are just too many to count in my book. As for my placement of the GW characters in this JW world...every single one of them was painstakingly picked for those roles. I am hoping some of you noticed the poetically full circle moments there. I love each character where they are and why they are there and I hope you do too.**

**Thank you for reading and for the favorites and follows and for the reviews...reviews are lifesblood to a writer.**

**Thank you for my betas and friends NinejetteTwitch, JenJenGundamFan and WingsLanding for EVERYTHING! Check out their stories too! :-)**

**Hope y’all enjoyed this little romp into John Wick world with GW characters.**

**Go With Gundam**


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